Page 103 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I looked up at his bright green eyes and realized we hadn’t moved from the porch of my parents’ over-the-top mansion.

I nodded.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “You sure?”

“No,” I admitted, exhaling hard.

A thousand questions still sat on my tongue. What were we? Was he serious about trying this with me? Were we dating now? Was I still getting paid—because, honestly, I still needed the job.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with any of it.

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not.” I shoved my hands onto my hips and sighed. “Okay, so maybe I am.”

He reached over, grabbed my hips, and spun me so I was chest to chest with him. He brought his hand up slowly and circled my cheek. It drifted down, fingers brushing along my jaw before tipping my chin up.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured, and all I could do was nod.

There was something about Dalton that held me, wholly and without apology.

Maybe it was because I’d seen all his sides.

The dad.

The bull rider.

The lover.

The rope-kink-obsessed, filthy-talking cowboy.

All of him had me completely enthralled.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

His lips came down to mine, and we kissed like the world didn’t exist beyond this moment. He slid his hand up my back, and I curled my fingers into his shirt. We weren’t two broken people trying to figure it out, we were . . . us.

Until the door creaked open.

“Oh.” My mother’s voice sliced right through the spell. “I didn’t expect you to be . . . doing this like a teenager on the doorstep.”

I pulled back, the sudden sting of reality sharp.

I took a large step away, hoping to put distance between my mother and what happened, and touched my lips, praying my lip gloss wasn’t smeared.

Dalton cleared his throat. “My name’s Dalton. I’m your daughter’s⁠—”

“Boss,” my mother clipped out. “I know.”

How did she know? Honestly, I had no idea.

But it was my mother, and she always knew everything.

“Hi, Mother,” I said, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.

She dragged her eyes over me before arching an eyebrow. “Bit scandalous for your sister’s gala, don’t you think?”

My mother didn’t wait for a response. She turned to go back inside and said, “Come in, anyway. Your father will want to meet your . . . date.”